


Homebound

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M, Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something between Jim and Spock that probably should’ve happened a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homebound

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s a moment when Jim first lets him in, where there aren’t any explanations or reasons for him to be here.

The door slides shut behind him, and his dark eyes scan the room. Jim fills in, “There aren’t any girls here, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Spock opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but he closes it again a moment later. His hands are behind his back, posture perfect. He looks down at his feet, clearly searching for the right words. That’s not something Jim appreciates. They’ve been through enough together that there shouldn’t be a need to be careful with their words. Crossings his arms and stepping closer, Jim asks, “What did you want to talk about?” Because there isn’t anything scheduled for Starfleet today, and there’s no _logical_ reason for Spock at all.

Spock clears his throat and looks up, saying, “I am glad you are alive, Captain.”

Jim bites the inside of his lip to keep the smile from stretching too wide. “Until they fix the Enterprise, there isn’t really a need to call me captain.” Spock blinks but doesn’t say anything. So Jim adds, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “But, uh... you didn’t have to say that. You already expressed as much after it first happened.”

“Yes, but I believe I did not quite express the... ‘extent’ of my... thoughts on the matter.”

“Feelings,” Jim corrects, even though he’s not quite sure where this is going anymore. (Well, he has an idea. It’s always been there, but they’ve never really done anything about it, and...)

Spock seems to be waiting for permission to continue, so Jim nods his head accordingly. “Captain, when I thought... when I was under the impression you had passed, I experienced some form of... regret, for lack of a better word.”

“Regret?” Jim quirks an eyebrow. He doesn’t mention the set of regrets that ran through his own head when their positions were reversed, when Spock was in the middle of an erupting volcano, and they might’ve never seen each other again. (He also does mention the humanness of feeling regret—this is probably getting hard enough.)

“Yes. There are certain things that were never said between us that I believe would be a grave misfortune if they never came to pass.”

“Said?” Jim asks, because Spock has such a roundabout way of admitting things sometimes, and he’s trying to encourage the main point.

“Done,” Spock corrects, even though that’s not what Jim meant.

Nevertheless, “Well, as your captain and your friend, I would advise you to do those things now. When the Enterprise is fixed, we’re not exactly going to have guaranteed safety.”

Spock quirks one slanted eyebrow. “You are suggesting I act on this?”

“I’m more than suggesting.”

“You are ordering?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Spock, I’m not about to—”

But he’s abruptly cut off by Spock’s mouth on his own, and he stumbles a step back though doesn’t get anywhere, because Spock’s arm is around his waist. It takes him half a second to get over the surprise. 

Then he’s shoving Spock back and ignoring the hesitant and breathy, “Jim—”

He’s tugging Spock by the wrist towards his bed, because it’s taken too long for it not to move too fast. Spock follows, just like he always does, a good first officer and a better man. Then Jim grabs him by the back of the neck, smashing their lips back together, back where they belong. He shoves his tongue into Spock’s willing mouth, mapping those half-Vulcan teeth and sucking that eager tongue. Unless Vulcans have managed to keep their feistiness in the bedroom well under wraps, the human side of Spock is poking out—his kisses are just as fierce. His hands slide over Jim’s back, scrunching up his shirt, like how Jim’s touching every centimeter of Spock’s chest, rubbing his nipples through his shirt. Why are they still wearing shirts? The only way Jim’s able to stop making out this time is the thought of Spock naked, and he tears himself away to fiddle with the hem of Spock’s shirt.

“Captain,” Spock says, breathless and unintentionally sexy as hell, “perhaps we are moving a bit fast—” Even though he’s the one that started it.

As soon as he’s ripped Spock’s shirt off, Jim grabs that silky black hair and tugs Spock back in. A bit more lip biting and tongue sucking and _tasting_ , and Jim mumbles between kisses, “Jim was better.”

“ _Jim_ ,” Spock repeats. But he can’t say anymore, because Jim’s turning him around and shoving him onto the bed, and he bounces in the sheets and climbs back on his elbows, looking up at Jim. His pupils are blown wide, eyes intense, lips swollen and parted, his chest bare and his nipples already pebbled. He licks his lips while Jim rips off his own shirt, moving to unbuckle his pants. Spock’s eyeing Jim’s body hungrily, but he still manages to say, “Vulcans do not...”

“Fuck?” Jim chuckles, kicking his pants away. “Of course they do—where do you think baby Vulcans come from?”

“That was not what I was going to say.” But it’s clearly similar to his concern. But there’s no denying he wants it—his pants are too tight in the front, and they won’t be on long. He watches Jim wrestle them off, lifting his legs only slightly to help, and he asks more firmly, “Is your door locked?”

“Of course,” Jim snorts. He’s about to make a crack about women wandering in, but he shuts his mouth instead—he shouldn’t go there. They shouldn’t go there. This isn’t about all the exploits he makes in Spock’s stead, or all the humanity Spock tries to find in the wrong places. It’s all substitution. It’s all nothing—minor conveniences because _this_ is harder, but _this_ is so much more, something that’s always been between the two of them, _just_ the two of them. It’s stronger and it’s better, and for Spock, all of Spock, Jim would change.

He already has. He does it all the time. He compromises at every turn, and as he crawls onto Spock, their cocks bumping through two sets of underwear, Jim says clearly, “We don’t have to do this.”

Spock looks aside, but he’s drawn back a second later, eyeing Jim’s exposed chest. “This is not how I pictured today going.”

“Humans are unpredictable,” Jim quips. 

Spock frowns. “I probably should have predicted this. I simply was not aware your tastes were so... undiscerning.”

Raising both eyebrows, Jim asks, “Is that your fancy way of suggesting I’ll fuck anything?”

Spock doesn’t say it aloud but his eyes do. It’s Jim’s turn to frown. He leans down to say very clearly, “You’re not a quick fuck.”

Sometimes Spock can be just as bratty as he can. A prime example: Spock rolls his hips up, grinding his crotch into Jim’s, and Jim grunts in pleasure. “Alright,” he concedes, “so I let my emotions get ahead of me. It’s not like we haven’t both been thinking of this for ages. All that tension between us... frankly, I’m surprised we haven’t had hate sex by now.”

“Hate sex?” Spock has the nerve to look genuinely confused. “Captain, I have never hated you...”

Shaking his head, Jim says, “Shut up, Spock,” and leans down to press their lips back together. Spock’s hands press against Jim’s chest as if to protest, but they only wind up sliding over his shoulders, caressing him and holding him down. Spock’s kisses become more and more fervent, until he’s rolling Jim over, and Jim’s fighting him back again, legs intertwining and cocks rutting furiously against one another, until Jim thinks he might come from the friction alone. But even if they can’t have sex so fast, he still needs _something_.

So he feels blindly around for one of Spock’s hands, until he finds a delicate wrist and pulls it down, shoving it right into his underwear. Spock groans into his mouth but obediently strokes him, wrapping those long, skilled fingers around his cock. Jim reaches into Spock’s underwear, even though it’s hard as the fabric’s tighter. A part of Jim wants desperately to see Spock’s dick, but the rest of him is too busy kissing Spock senseless to bother pulling away. So he just _feels_ it instead, mapping it all out and running up and down it, squeezing it gently. It pulses in his hand, warm and alive, already a little slick. The only lubrication Jim’s has is his sweat, but he’ll take the pain with the pleasure—he doesn’t want Spock’s hand off his cock for even a second, even if it’s only to gather lube.

It’s not enough. It’s too much. They shouldn’t even have underwear on—they should be naked and fucking or at least sucking each other off. Next time. There isn’t the patience now. It’s all happening too fast. The pleasure’s pooling in his stomach, and his head’s foggy and thinning, body humming with pure excitement, hips moving on their own. He’s too turned on for coordination, and he leaves Spock’s mouth in favour of raining kisses all over Spock’s handsome face, on his cheeks, his chin, all along his jaw. Spock gasps and moans like no robot ever could, even if he’s plainly trying not to. 

“Now you know why I had to go back for you,” Jim purrs, so close to the edge he can barely stand it. He’s trying to keep his eyes open, because Spock’s too good looking not to take in like this.

“I had... hoped.” Spock’s eyelids are fluttering, voice strained. 

“You’d do the same for me,” Jim presses, squeezing Spock’s cock just so.

Gasping and arching beautifully, Spock hisses, “ _Yesss._ ”

It’s just as much that knowledge, that voice, and that sound as it is that skilled hand jerking him off that pushes Jim over the edge. His balls tighten and he’s coming, and he’s kissing Spock again to drown out his scream. He thrusts violently into Spock’s hand, and he pumps Spock furiously to catch up, and it doesn’t take long. He pulls back to let Spock scream freely, and he jerks down Spock’s underwear so the release flies everywhere. That unbridled scream rips the last of Jim’s orgasm out, making him shiver. The fact that Spock tries to hide his emotions only makes them that much more erotic when they spill out, powerful and rampant. 

They’re both panting and sweaty, with white stains trailing up their chests. Jim props himself up on one arm to look down, watching Spock’s cock slowly flag against his stomach. It’s long and straight, with the faint hints of green veins pressing against the skin, still beautiful and magnificent. When Jim looks back up, Spock stubbornly stares back at him, clearly refusing to show any embarrassment.

“Nice cock,” Jim chuckles.

Without skipping a beat, Spock says, “Thank you, Jim. I believe yours is also satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory?” Jim raises an eyebrow, smirking, but he doesn’t get a response. 

Instead, Spock just stares at him for several minutes, breathing heavily and coming back down, looking spent and debauched and wonderful. Jim rolls off him and lies next to him, not bothering to clean himself up.

Then Spock clears his throat again and asks, “Should I go?”

“You’re staying the night,” Jim says.

“Captain—”

“That’s an order, Mr. Spock,” Jim says loudly. He looks sideways and lowers his voice to say, “And maybe a few nights after that.”

Though something flickers across his eyes, Spock’s poker face is otherwise remarkable. “There will be... complications.”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you propositioned me.”

Spock’s brow furrows. “Captain, I did no such thing.”

“Coming in here like that,” Jim scoffs, “looking completely ravish-able and practically begging me to take you... you’re lucky I showed as much restraint as I did...”

Rolling onto his side, Spock lifts up onto his elbow. “That is most certainly not what hap—”

“I tell you, if you do that sort of thing on my ship, I’ll have to throw you in the brig, or I’ll never get any work done.” Jim wants to do more taunting, but he has to break out into laughter due to the expression on Spock’s face, which is clearly wrestling with irritation to stay calm. (And perhaps he looks a bit scandalized, too.)

“The point is,” Jim tries again a moment later, rolling over onto his side to meet Spock halfway, their bodies lined up, sharing warmth all over, “that I’m glad I lived, too, if it means I get to have this. I was just as scared when I thought I was going to lose you.” 

Spock opens his mouth, perhaps to say that he wasn’t scared, but he clearly thinks better and closes it again.

So Jim continues, “I mean, you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes... but you’re my pain in the ass, and I’ll be honoured to have you as a first officer again when they fix my ship.”

Spock looks like he’s going to say something special. It’s all over his face—the words they won’t say. The things he _feels_. Jim feels it too.

Instead, Spock says, “I did not bring a spare uniform—what will I do if there is a Starfleet emergency?”

“You’ll come running out of the place in one of my old spare uniforms, looking just as dashing as usual.”

Spock opens his mouth, then visibly gives up. Jim just laughs and goes in for another kiss.


End file.
